The day I died

I sat cold as ice by the vent on the left of the room.everyone had blank faces just waiting for someone to raise their hand and answer it. The old fragile man with salt and pepper hair said the question again."what is the the name of the god of water". I always knew the answer but was to afraid to be wrong so if I don't answer I don't have to be put down".most people would lecture me about this fear but that's not my worst fear.my worst fear is...dying.some times it felt like I was dead.as I raised my hand my social anxiety got the best of me and my hand started to quiver rapidly that I forgot to breath.drawing even more attention to me which made me burst out crying with my hand still in the air.mr.garn asked me "do you have something to share?" I nodded and as I did that my hair just got in my way of vision started to get wet from the tears on my Rosey cheeks covered in freckles. "Lucia are you feeling ok" mr garn asked.as I felt all choked for no reason I nodded.